Better Than My Dreams
by SMKLegacy
Summary: Harm tells it like it is. Future fic.


**Better Than My Dreams**

TEASER: Harm tells it like it is. Future Fic.

DISCLAIMER: Even after the series finale, everything except this story and a few new characters herein will belong to DPB and the rest of TPTB. I doubt I'll ever have enough money to buy the 10 seasons on DVD, never mind make a serious offer for the rights.

ARCHIVE: At my own site and with my permission (see my profile for e-mail).

FEEDBACK: …makes me smile.

RATING: K+

AUTHOR'S NOTE and SPOILERS: I haven't read enough concrete spoilers to know what actually happens on April 29, so this may ultimately be AU – but it's the way I would have things work. Everything through "Two Towns" is at risk for reference as canon.

**JAG JAG JAG JAG**

19 AUGUST 2050  
WASHINGTON NAVY YARD, WASHINGTON, DC  
2230 ZULU

The sign over the door at the Officer's Club screamed "Happy 45th Anniversary!" between the Globe and Anchor of the United States Marine Corps and the gold wings of an Aviator in the United States Navy.

"I told you so, Harm." Sarah Mackenzie Rabb nudged her husband in the ribs as he stopped their car under the portico of the brand new building. "You are so gullible."

"What, because I believed our children when they said they wanted to take us out to dinner?" He flashed his full-wattage smile at her, knowing it was undimmed despite his advanced age and hoping it would stop any further commentary.

Mac rolled her eyes, which meant his ploy had failed. She waited until he had given the keys to the valet and come around to open her door before she replied. "Now, see, your investigative skills are finally beginning to slip, my dear. First of all, our children live in Twenty Nine Palms and Honolulu, not Washington. Second, when was the last time our children visited us together? Third, did I not tell you that all of our grandchildren would be staying with us this weekend? Taken together, it's pretty obvious they were up to something."

He reached down to take her hand and lift her out of the car, pulling her to his side in a gesture achingly powerful even after so many years. "I don't think I'm slipping, Mac," he countered, brushing his lips into her hairline. "I think I just forget how smart our children are."

She laughed, a waterfall of sound that made him wish they were entering the privacy of their own home rather than the substantial party indicated by the full parking lot. "You said it long before they were ever born. 'Your looks and my brains' or 'my looks and your brains,' either way. And since we got one of each . . ."

He stopped their movement and turned her to look down into her deep chocolate eyes. "Have I ever thanked you for them, Sarah?"

Her lips formed a beautiful "O" of surprise at his question.

"I guess not. So let me correct that oversight. Thank you for everything you did to bring our children into this world and raise them to be who they are. Our twins are the second best thing that ever happened to me, after you. Chloe Grace is everything a man could want in a daughter – beautiful, intelligent, independent, ambitious, and devoted to me."

Mac flashed him a wry smile, conceding that even after twenty years of marriage, their daughter was still the very definition of a "daddy's girl."

He tucked a strand of silvery hair behind her ear and kissed her with gentle passion. "That's for Chloe Grace. I can't even complain about the man she married."

"Since his brother is our godson, it would be bad form to resort to character assassination. Besides, I seem to recall that you spent an awful lot of time lobbying on Jimmy's behalf."

Harm nodded in acknowledgement of his role in assuring that Chloe Grace ultimately married Jimmy Roberts. "I can tell you that no father is prouder of his son than I am of Matthew Albert. He's strong, loyal, smart, good looking, dedicated, and brave. And the only person more devoted to you than he is me."

"Sometimes I wonder about that, Flyboy," she teased, nipping at his chin with her lips. "He remembers things better than you do."

"The advantage of youth. But Chloe Grace's devotion pales in comparison to yours." He caught her lips again for a moment. "And even though I had nothing to do with his choice of a wife, Matt did a damned fine job picking the right woman."

Mac snorted. "You only say that because he picked a sailor to balance his jarhead status."

"And the problem with that is what, exactly?" He pointed overhead toward the sign neither could see.

"Not a thing, Harmon Rabb. Not a thing."

"Didn't think so." He tucked her into his side again and they resumed their journey into the club.

**JAG JAG JAG JAG**

The crowd in the main ballroom surprised Harm, particularly when all 350 of them shouted, "Happy Anniversary!" at the same time. The applause that followed warmed his heart and made Mac blush a beautiful shade of pink.

Chloe Grace set them up in two different places in the room for receiving lines, which Harm decided was a good idea when he realized how many people would want to speak to him more than Mac or her more than him. People he hadn't seen since his retirement from the Navy 20 years before approached him to offer congratulations as across the room, Mac spoke with some of her former law clerks who were now partners in multinational law firms. He also saw several members of Congress and the 8 Associate Justices of the Supreme Court and their spouses standing in line to greet Mac after short greetings to him.

When his line died away, he found a quiet corner near Mac and stood sipping his drink, just taking it all in. He looked around the room, counting the people who would not be there to celebrate with them. Time had passed without thought, but not without consequence.

Sometimes he thought it irrational that he still missed his mother, although she would be 110 now. Frank would be even older, but he missed his stepfather terribly at times, too. He still carried a wedge of guilt that it had taken him over 30 years to realize just what a good father Frank had been to him despite everything. The twins had worshipped their grandfather, a just reward for the hellish fatherhood he endured with Harm.

Grandma Sarah had died on the twin's tenth birthday, which was also the day after her 98th birthday. Harm remembered trying to dry their tears and being told, to his amazement, that they were tears of joy because Grandma Sarah was out of pain and in a better place.

He had called Matthew O'Hara in Leavenworth the night before he asked Mac to marry him, just to reassure the man who rescued Mac from alcoholic self-destruction that she would be in good hands. The colonel's words warmed his heart even now, long after his death: "She has been since she met you, Harm."

Gordon Creswell died within days after Mac was sworn in as Chief Justice of the United States Supreme Court 15 years ago. He would be over 100 years old now, Harm mused, wondering for a moment if the Marine general would have been as cantankerous at 102 as Admiral A.J. Chegwidden had been in the weeks before he died two years ago at 102.

Sturgis Turner, with whom he had finally made peace when the twins were born, suffered from advanced ALS and was confined to a nursing facility. Sturgis and Varise's daughter Elise had come just long enough to update him and Mac on their friend's condition, to share hugs with her "cousins", and to check up on Mickey Roberts, widowed two years before in a situation horribly reminiscent of his sister Sarah's death before he was even born.

Jason Tiner died far too young, just a newly minted JAG officer. His family had the comfort of knowing he died heroically while saving the lives of an entire section of men from a radiation leak in a spent fuel storage locker on his carrier. On his headstone were engraved the words, "Medal of Honor Winner."

Gregory Vucovic also died in the line of duty days before his promotion to commander was to be effective. Mac was the JAG at the time. She had taken his accidental death hard, knowing that his reckless behavior sometimes stemmed from his need to be the center of attention and understanding that he was trying to get back into her good graces after a major headline-making snafu in his previous case.

Beth Hawkes died doing her job, too. She was one of the first two female CAGs in the Navy, leading the squadrons on the _USS Lincoln_. The last night of flight ops before the end of her cruise and the beginning of a tour at the Pentagon that would have led to flag rank, Skates was killed when an F-18 suffered engine failure on final approach and slammed into Pri-Fly. Killing 148 and injuring 327, the 2015 accident was the worst on a carrier since the fire on the _USS Forrestal _in 1967.

Jennifer Coates had never married, but she had managed a stellar career in the Navy, becoming the first female Master Chief Petty Officer of the Navy before her retirement. She died in a plane crash a year after she retired.

Harm's heart twitched at the thought of Mattie Grace Johnson. Her physical recovery from her head injury had never been full, but her mental faculties returned quickly once she regained consciousness. Unfortunately, her time on the ventilator had left her susceptible to respiratory infections. She became a statistic during the flu pandemic in 2011, just a few weeks before she was to graduate from college. Her death had been the first one in the twins' protected universe and they had taken it hard. Especially Chloe Grace, naturally.

Time had been good to others, though, for which Harm was grateful.

Bud and Harriet Roberts had been married for 52 years and had a passel of grandchildren, three of whom they shared with him and Mac. Someday soon, they were expecting news of a great-grandchild on the way, but Harriet wavered between wanting that milestone and abhorring what it said about her age. Bud had aged well and looked like the distinguished gentleman he was, a professor at Georgetown Law and a regular commentator on legal issues for several media outlets. He and Harriet sat with Little AJ – now 51! – and his wife, their daughter Nikki and her husband, and Nikki's twin Mickey and his three year old son.

Meg Austin Jones and her husband Ray, a physicist, had just entered the state of grandparenthood after years of cajoling their son and his wife to start their family already. Across the room at the hors d'oeuvres buffet, Meg wore an aura of happiness like roses wore dew, softly but with intense beauty and joy.

Kate Pike had been married and divorced twice but had a handsome, well adjusted son from each marriage to compensate somewhat for the heartbreak of her broken romances. She had come with her sons and their wives this evening, looking graceful and elegant in a royal blue summer suit. Hard to believe that she was 80 this year.

Victor Galindez didn't look a day older than he had on the day he finally retired from the Marine Corps as a Master Sergeant, even though he was the same age as Mac, 82. He still carried himself with ramrod straight posture and had a no-nonsense way about him that had disarmed many a criminal since he took over as sheriff of his small home town in New Mexico. Harm watched with a smile as "Uncle Victor" talked with Patricia, his own youngest granddaughter and Chloe Grace's problem child.

Sergei Zhukov and his new second wife stood talking with Matt and his wife Shannon. Sergei had done very well since he returned to Russia so many years before, rising to his current position as Minister of Defense after a distinguished career in the army. His children from his first marriage, Natasha and Misha, both lived in America. They occupied a table with their American spouses and Chloe Grace and Jimmy. Harm delighted in his niece and nephew after growing up thinking he would never have such relatives, and that they lived in the DC area served as an added bonus.

Chloe Madison Martinez and her husband John had come from London just for this occasion. When Chloe was appointed Ambassador to the Court of St. James the previous fall, she credited Mac with all her drive and success. "Having Chief Justice Mackenzie-Rabb as a Big Sister growing up gave me the determination and understanding to do whatever it takes to get the job done," Chloe had said in her first official statement. Mac had cried in Harm's arms as they sat in the front row of the press conference.

Mikey Roberts and Cammie Creswell had danced around each other for ten years after she graduated from Annapolis before they finally got married, and then they waited another five before they had their first child. Their second child, a son, had apparently set his heart on Harm and Mac's oldest granddaughter, Matthew's Sarah Marie. Harm worried a little about the five year age difference, but at 21, Sarah Marie knew her mind and was content to take Gordon seriously without commitment just yet.

"Hey, Sailor." Mac slid her arms around him and laid her head on his shoulder. He hadn't heard her approach, so he jumped a little as she settled around him. "You enjoying yourself?"

"Absolutely. Just taking a stroll down memory lane during the lull." He threw his arm around her and pulled her closer. "It's also fun to watch you work the room."

"You should have been with me." Her tone held no censure despite her words.

He laughed. "I had my own line. I only got done five minutes ago."

"Lucky you, you got a break. I came to tell you that our children would like us to take our seats so that they can get on with dinner, now that their famous mother is done welcoming her public." He loved the ironic timbre of her voice, even though her words held truth.

He leaned down to steal a quick kiss. "Any idea what they're planning?"

"They're our children. What would we have done? Multiply it by an outrageous factor of three and you might be in the ballpark."

"I think I'm afraid now."

She smiled up at him, the same smile that had set his soul on fire every night in his dreams for nine years before he woke up to it for the first time. "Right with you, Sailor."

"Do you suppose they would be offended if we just sneaked off behind the building for a little while to, you know, indulge ourselves?"

She giggled and elbowed him in the stomach. "Harm, you're insatiable."

"And persistent, Ninja Girl. Don't forget persistent." He leaned down a little further and nibbled at her exposed neck.

He didn't stop when she tried to push him away, but a voice very much like his own did get his head moving up and his face flushing red.

"Dad! God, you'd think you were teenagers instead of octogenarians." Matt had Harm's build, profile, and smile, but Mac's deep brown eyes. Those eyes, when Harm raised his own to meet them, held the same annoyed amusement he often saw in Mac's when he did something embarrassing.

If it were Chloe Grace instead of Matt, the smile he flashed would have been enough. But his son needed the same banter his mother did. "And you have a problem with that?"

Matt grinned. "Not at all. In private," he stressed before Harm could say anything in rebuttal. "And Mom, I just . . . just can't believe you would . . ."

Mac snuggled up to Harm and laid a kiss on him that would have powered Manhattan for a month. "Would what, show affection for the man I love?"

"Mom!" Matt blushed.

"Okay, okay. We'll stop for now. But no promises on the dance floor." Harm winked at Matt, who just rolled his eyes in another gesture reminiscent of Mac and turned away, motioning for his parents to follow.

**JAG JAG JAG JAG**

Dinner proved to be a recreation of their wedding reception, right down to the perfect replica of their cake for dessert. Faces had changed, but the romance was the same. So was Bud's toast as best man.

"We had given up hope of getting to this day with the two of you together," he said, and got almost as much of a laugh this time as the first. The first time, it was stubbornness on the part of the bride and groom that had caused friends to give up hope. This time, it was Harm's bout with pneumonia the previous year that nearly prevented this celebration. "But since we are here, it only seems appropriate to say thanks to God for getting us to this point."

After a moment of silence, he went on. "Harm, this covenant is sacred. You know better than anyone what it has taken to get you and Mac to this point, and how precious this love is between you to have survived so much for so long. In most things, you are my teacher, but in this, allow me to share my hard-learned lessons. First, never let a day go by without telling Mac that you love her. Even if you're apart, even if she won't get the e-mail or letter or voice mail for several days, make sure you tell her every day in a way she will receive the message. Second, if you go to bed mad, leave the anger at the bedroom door and pick it up the next day. Third, even if you choose not to pick up the anger the next morning, don't sweep the issue under the carpet. Talk about it. Fourth, the two most important phrases in your marriage will be, 'I'm sorry' and 'I forgive you.' Use them well and wisely. And fifth, laugh a lot together. I personally recommend Monty Python. Don't even try the Three Stooges. For the two of you, there's an old comedy team called the Bickersons that would probably be perfect. But whatever you use to laugh, do so together regularly."

Bud reached down for his water glass and took a long sip. "That's my advice for a happy marriage. Now, let me add something from the vantage point of 52 years: it still applies. And since you, my student, have performed so well, I have a presentation for you. Both of you, actually, because you couldn't have done this without Mac."

Bud's innocent smile made it easy for Harm to stand up. Beside him, Mac, too, stood, but he noticed that she was trying to communicate with Harriet around the podium.

From under the podium, Bud pulled out some bright blue material, which he separated to show to the audience. "Since it is their 45th anniversary, we have opted for these sapphire hoods indicating that we are awarding each of you a Doctorate in Marital Success."

Harriet joined Bud and helped him "hood" first Mac, then Harm, with the blue fabric. Bud then motioned for her to take the microphone, which she did as she held Harm's left hand and Mac's right hand. "We know you're both technically doctors already – the D in J.D. does stand for doctor, after all . . ." The audience laughed. " . . .but this doctorate is one you really had to work hard to earn. Wear it proudly and pass it on to your children and grandchildren. Especially the ones we share."

"Abosolutely," Harm said, leaning down to kiss her on her cheek. "We learned from the best, Harriet. Thanks."

"You're welcome." He saw the flash of impishness in her blue eyes and sighed, knowing what was coming next. She only did it when she wanted to yank his chain. "Sir."

Mac laughed. "Thank you, Harriet. You, too, Bud." Bud stood on her other side, holding her left hand. "This is such a wonderful gift."

"There's more to come, Mac." Bud let go of her hand and gestured for her to sit down. "But what, I have no idea."

Harm returned to his seat beside Mac and stretched his arm out across her chair. She dropped her head to his shoulder for a moment, sitting up only when their seven grandchildren approached the podium in a line that made their Marine grandmother proud, judging by the smile on her face.

The seven of them looked so good standing together, Harm thought. Anyone could see that they were related just by looking at them, but each one was an individual through and through, with gifts, talents, and interests that spanned the world. And outer space, actually, which Harm laid squarely at Bud's feet.

Harm craned his neck to look at Harmon James Roberts, called Jamie since the day he was born, who stood tall and proud behind his grandparents. Jamie was a senior at the Naval Academy this year, a star pitcher on the baseball team majoring in astrophysics and hoping for an appointment to the Space Aviation Command upon graduation. He wanted to work on Mars first and ultimately to lead the first expedition to Europa, slated for 2069 as a celebration of the 100th anniversary of the first lunar landing. Big dreams – but Jamie had always had big ambitions and thus far had never failed in them.

Beside Jamie, holding his hand, was his cousin Sarah Marie Rabb. The two had grown up together for the first three years of their lives, to the point that they hadn't quite understood that they were cousins, not siblings. Sarah Marie was a few months younger than Jamie but looked older. Harm wasn't sure whether that was the difference between young women and young men at that age or because she tried to look older, but he couldn't deny her beauty. She turned heads everywhere she went with her willowy height, finely crafted features, and green eyes. Sarah Marie would be an M.D. at the end of her accelerated college career; if she and Gordon Creswell Roberts stayed together, they would open a pediatric private practice together in a few years.

Kimberly May Roberts, standing beside Sarah Marie, looked like her grandmother Harriet in many ways, with the same porcelain skin, blonde hair, and blue eyes. But she had Mac's slender build, passed from mother to daughter to granddaughter, and held herself just like Mac, Marine Corps straight and proud. At 16, she had her heart set on Annapolis and had the grades and activities to do it. Like her maternal grandmother, she had an ear for language and already spoke Russian, Arabic, and German fluently. Her current fetish was Chinese, in which she could already communicate as well as a native second grader – after two months of study. This coming week would no doubt consist of several years of advancement for her under Mac's tutelage.

Michael Scott Rabb, called Scottie since his birth to keep him differentiated from Mike Roberts and Mickey Roberts, was already the tallest member of the family at 15. He only touched 6'2", but age had pulled Harm down from his full height of 6'4" to just over 6'1" – and Scottie reveled in the three quarters of an inch by which he topped his grandfather. He was an all-star center in basketball and a luminary on the pitcher's mound as well as a math whiz whose ambitions included earning a Ph.D. in experimental math at MIT while playing for either the Celtics or the Red Sox. The Ph.D. Harm didn't worry about, but he did wonder if Scottie really had the talent to play professional level sports. He could always be a movie star, Harm realized as he watched his grandson preen at the podium.

Jennifer Madeleine Rabb had lawyer written all over her. At 12, she could argue her way into and out of anything using a combination of logic and emotion that had skipped from her paternal grandparents into her, something Matt pointed out every time Harm complained about her way with words. Jen had her mother's auburn hair and her father's brown eyes, but it was a little too soon to know how her girlish form would mature. She would probably be short, though, which annoyed her no end, and Harm could see her stretching up on tiptoe beside her brother on the other side of the podium.

Patricia Rabb Roberts at 9 was the family problem child. Not, Chloe Grace was always quick to assert, because of any inborn leaning toward delinquency, but because she was so smart that no education plan yet devised could keep her engaged at school. As a result, she often found herself in trouble for disrupting class. In desperation, her parents had decided to enroll her in a community college in Honolulu this next school year in hopes of finding material advanced enough for Patricia to sink her teeth into. Harm smiled as he thought about the possibilities for his granddaughter, whose possessed a slender childish brunette beauty to match her brains. Heaven help the man who falls for her, he thought, watching her as she alternately scanned the audience and whispered to Jen.

Matthew Albert Rabb, Jr., was the surprise child. Five only a few days ago and not even in Kindergarten yet, Bert already showed signs of his grandmother's language ability with his knowledge of Hawaiian and Spanish. He also had great physical dexterity for a child his age, showing unusual ability to sink basketballs and to hit softballs into the outfield – but Harm suspected those talents had been developed by Scottie as much as come naturally. Bert's current aspirations included becoming a fighter pilot like his father, although as soon as his cousin Jamie went into space the first time, Harm thought, that drive to be a pilot would be transferred to space. Bert worshipped the ground Jamie walked on and Harm wasn't surprised to see the little guy traipse behind the others to arrive at Jamie's side as Scottie spoke.

Mac's attention had been drawn to the soft noise behind them; she let a tear escape when Jamie picked Bert up and gave him a bright smile as he settled the boy on his hip.

Harm realized that in his musing, he hadn't heard a word Scottie said, although the occasional laugh from their guests had registered somewhere in his mind. He turned his attention to the young man.

"I have it on good authority," Scottie was saying, "that when Grand Mac was named an Associate Justice of the Supreme Court 30 years ago, she said to Grandpa Harm, and I quote, 'Don't you ever try to argue a case before the Supreme Court, Counselor. We both know what a disaster that is.'"

The gist was right, though Mac's words had been a little stronger than that. Her scolding he attributed to her surprise at the opportunity rather than real concern, but he had declined several cases after his retirement that might have taken him to the Supreme Court nonetheless.

"It's nice to have a fairy tale lived out before you. Grand Mac told us that she had often doubted the fairy tale in the years leading up to their marriage, even though she knew she wanted the fairy tale with Grandpa Harm for sure when some maniac on a submarine tried to kill them both. She chalks up her thankfully broken engagement to someone else as a combination of the very loud ticking of her biological clock, desperate loneliness, and the hope that fear of losing her would spur some acknowledgement of mutual attraction from Grandpa Harm." Scottie waited as a few people nodded and laughed, mostly those in the family and the few remaining friends who remembered that time.

"What we don't know, because he manages to change the subject every time, is when Grandpa Harm actually fell in love with Grand Mac. We know when he admitted it out loud because we have Aunt Mattie's diaries."

Harm had forgotten about those diaries. Mattie left them to Chloe Grace, to remain unopened until her 18th birthday. Chloe Grace had devoured them in three days, paying particular attention to Mattie's observations of Mac and Harm's relationship as they rebuilt it slowly in the years after Paraguay. And, inveterate diarist that she was, Mattie recorded the conversation in which Harm had first admitted without qualification that he loved Mac.

"So, Grandpa Harm, you're on the spot. When did you know that Grand Mac was the woman you wanted all of this with?"

Mac turned her head to look at him, her eyes gleaming with suppressed laughter. He realized that even she probably didn't know the answer, although she had guessed over the years with amazing accuracy where he was in his emotional journey at different points in their relationship. He wondered if she would believe him now when he stood up to tell the world his story.

Each of his grandchildren hugged him before he took Scottie's place at the podium. He relished the contact, still marveling after all these years at his good fortune. He also relished the fact that so many people had come out to show their love and support to them, and that most of them were truly friends in addition to family and colleagues.

"You know, kids, I never realized until tonight just how carefully I have avoided answering that question over the years. Even your grandmother hasn't heard the whole truth from me, so I suppose after 45 years of marriage, it's time to come clean. I mean, it's not likely she'll file divorce papers tomorrow, right?"

Mac laughed loudest of all and raised her iced tea in salute. No matter what he said now, she knew she occupied primacy of place in his heart and the past was the past.

"I had a lot of demons to exorcise before I was ready to admit someone into my whole heart," he began, looking at Mac rather than the gathered crowd. "What I didn't know was that my heart could admit someone without the rest of me understanding or knowing, so the answer to Scottie's question is not as easy as it might seem on the surface."

"You always did make things complicated," Mac quipped, wiping her eyes already.

"Yeah, it's a gift." He turned to face his friends and family. "I could never have expressed this back then, so bear with me as I rehash a bit of old history. Mac and I met in the Rose Garden at the White House. Then and there, Mac tweaked my heart because she looked like a friend who might have been much more had she lived. A week later, I was no longer looking at Diane, though: Mac had proved herself very different from my friend – and piqued my curiosity, too. A couple of months later, I saw her in a ball gown for the first time.

"That was when I knew I would never be able to think about Mac just as a fellow officer and partner ever again. I was escorting a beautiful princess at the time, but she couldn't hold a candle to Mac. If memory serves, I told her then that I didn't think of her as a sister."

Mac raised her glass again as the audience laughed. At his sides, his grandchildren smiled, encouraging him to keep going.

"I'll admit that my heart hadn't yet communicated with certain other parts of my anatomy at that point, but looking back, I can say with absolute certainty that I was already beginning to love Mac. Not falling in love – there's an important difference – but to love her as a person. We had a case that spring, this was 1997, in case you're counting, that brought out some of Mac's history that I hadn't known. My heart ached for her then because I had grown to love her very much, as a friend. I was attracted to her, too, but that was altogether in another realm.

"Besides, I was dating someone quite seriously at the time and thought I might actually propose to her, gaining an instant family. Then I screwed the pooch by lying to her and there went that prospect. Thank God!"

This time, nearly everyone raised their glasses in toast to that sentiment.

"But Mac was right there with me through that entire time. She left me – um, left JAG . . ." he corrected when Mac raised her eyebrow at him, ". . . but came back to defend me against a murder rap. Before I ended my relationship with the instant family, Mac nearly died at the hands of a stalker. If her leaving JAG was hard on me, imagine how nearly losing her permanently wreaked havoc on my heart!"

An expectant rustle swept the room, but he held up his hands to calm them. "No, not yet. But it was then that I realized Mac had become my best friend." He turned to his grandchildren and made eye contact with each one. "The best advice I can give you about marriage is this: marry your best friend or don't get married at all."

The older ones nodded, but Jenn, Patricia, and Bert just stared at him, too young to grasp even a little of what he meant despite their intellect.

"The first time I kissed Mac, she thought I was kissing Diane. It's a long story, but in case you're still wondering, my dear, I was only kissing her for the first tenth of a second. Then something clicked in my heart and I was kissing you, but I'll be honest enough to say that my head wasn't listening. I think I actually fell in love with you then." He chuckled ruefully. "Life would have been very different if I had answered your question honestly, wouldn't it?"

Mac squeezed her eyes shut. "Yeah, but maybe not for the better."

He had long since stopped trying to figure out how he could fall more in love with her than he already was, but the sensation still filled him with wonder as a new, intense wave of passion overtook him. Only when Matt cleared his throat as an embarrassed prompt from a table to his left did he break his gaze from Mac to look back at the audience. "She's amazing, isn't she? I knew she felt the same way, that I was her best friend, when she followed me to Russia on my quest for my father. Remember those demons I mentioned earlier? Diane was one, my father's final fate was another. And who else but my best friend would get into an airplane with me after our first two rides with me at the stick resulted in a crash and her getting violently ill? We didn't fare any better the third time, actually, but we did survive and she held me when I cried myself to sleep on the plane back to Washington.

"The less said about the next two years, the better. My head was so far up my six that I rolled around Washington rather than walked. Denial may be a river in Egypt, but it's a dangerous condition in which to live. I dated two other women I didn't love, misread the best chance I had yet had to have a chance for the wife I really wanted – though, in my defense, my head and my heart suffered from an even worse case of terminal miscommunication than Mac and I did – and came around just in time to celebrate Mac's engagement to another man. If I hadn't crashed on my way back for the wedding . . ."

He shook his head. "So the rest of the answer to your question, Scottie, is that I finally admitted to myself that I love your grandmother to the exclusion of all others as I was pulling up to Admiral Chegwidden's house with another woman for a party celebrating the impending marriage of your grandmother to another man. That we actually in the end managed to get over all the baggage we each carried and get married is miraculous in and of itself. That we're here celebrating our 45th wedding anniversary is proof that there is a God."

Scottie and Jamie laughed and exchanged high fives before they met him at the podium and threw their arms around him. "That's exactly what Uncle A.J. said you would say!" Scottie pumped his arm.

Harm looked between his grandsons with a smile he knew wouldn't go away no matter how hard he tried to be stern. "You talked to Admiral Chegwidden about this?"

"Well, you wouldn't tell us and we already knew Grand Mac's side of the story. Uncle Bud and Aunt Harriet said to ask A.J., so we did. He was very happy to tell us all about your kiss on the porch while he critiqued my fastball." Jamie made a pitching motion.

"I've remembered that for almost 10 years. It was the first time I heard about any of your exploits, Grandpa Harm." Scottie flashed what his grandmother called a "Flyboy" smile at Harm. "You're lucky Uncle Bud backed up the stories, because I thought they were tall tales."

Harm couldn't help but picture a spry 94 year old A.J. sitting on his porch as much younger versions of Scottie and Jamie played catch and improved their skills under the old man's watchful eye. Then something clicked in his brain about the same time something clicked in Mac's; they made eye contact before Mac blurted out their mutual revelation.

"Oh, my God, the admiral saw us."

The kids laughed along with the audience as Harm shared another long look with his wife. The question in her eyes mirrored that in his head and heart: _what if A.J. had said something to us in the days before she took off for the _Guadalcanal?

Sergei called from a table near the center of the room. "That was in 2001, Harm. What took you four more years to do something about it?"

Harm leaned on the podium, suddenly feeling every one of his 86 years, all three ejections, and both crashes. "I had a few more demons to exorcise. Jealousy. Pride. Self-reliance."

"Sheer stupidity." Mac waited for the laughter to die down before she clarified, "That one is mutual. So is self-reliance, I guess."

"Mmmh, you think?" Harm lifted her hand and kissed it before he turned back to the audience. "A popular singer of the late 20th century wrote a song that speaks volumes to what happened in those four years. 'If I could turn back time, if I could find a way to take back those words that hurt you . . .' Most of you have read about that time in Mac's biography, of course, but there are parts that are still sealed under National Security regulations. Suffice to say that some things happened in our lives that nearly broke us, as individuals and as a couple. We went through hell.

"In the end, what pulled us together was the threat of being separated by something bigger than our own human foibles. The United States Navy. The JAG Corps, to be specific." A ripple of laughter passed through the room. "Orders came through for us at the same time, Mac to be the US Military attaché at NATO in Brussels and me to be Seventh Fleet JAG in Yokosuka, Japan. Now, what you have to know is that in all the time I lived in my place near Union Station, we had an ongoing debate about where to turn halfway between my place and Mac's place in Georgetown. She turned on 8th Street and I turned on 9th Street. What this meant is that after work on the night we got our orders, we sat outside each other's apartments for an hour waiting for the other to get home from work after passing each other a block apart. Thank goodness for cell phone call waiting, although it took two tries for us to connect, and then we agreed to meet at our favorite Thai place to talk." He smiled down at Mac and allowed himself to think about that night, the way she had made herself irresistible in red with her hair up softly and tendrils curled around her ears.

"For once, I talked first. I didn't want her to misunderstand me, and I needed to speak or I would have lost my courage and wimped out on the truth – again. So I laid it on the table for her. I was submitting my retirement papers with 20 years and 6 months in service and following her to Brussels. She laughed at me, but it only took me a couple of seconds to realize that it wasn't the idea of me following her to Belgium that she was laughing at. She took my hands, squeezed them, and said in a voice I hope none of you ever hear because it means you are WAY too intimate with my wife . . ." He heaved a sigh of relief that none of Mac's former lovers were even alive to be a worry. ". . .'Harm, the exact same position is open with the Sixth Fleet in Naples. Would you like to know how far Naples is from Brussels?' I think I said something obvious, like, 'A whole lot closer than Yokosuka,' because she rolled her eyes at me. '958 miles, give or take ten. And would you like to know what city is almost exactly halfway between Brussels and Naples? Milan.'"

Harm made eye contact with Chloe Grace and Matt in turn. "You always did want to know how we knew exactly where you were conceived and how early you were. Since you weren't conceived on our honeymoon, it had to be Milan at Christmas, and we only had 48 hours because your mother had to go avert an international nuclear incident, it was pretty easy to know you were exactly 13 weeks early." He shivered, but didn't share, in fact neither he nor Mac had ever shared except with each other, the fear they each harbored during the entire high risk pregnancy. That she conceived at all was something neither had expected; that they were twins was shocking, and that she carried them to viability miraculous, given her endometriosis. Only Bud, Harriet, and Sergei, of those in the room, knew that Mac nearly died giving birth when a uterine rupture caused severe hemorrhaging. It was two months before Mac and the twins could come home, but they all made remarkable recoveries while Harm filled Mac's position TAD and a short timer lived out the last of his Naval career happily in quiet Naples.

"The rest, as they say, is history. Now, I know that this is your party, children, but since I'm standing here, there's something very important that I have to say to my wife. Will you indulge me?"

"Gee, Dad, I don't know," Chloe Grace hollered, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "I mean, you've hogged the limelight now for almost 20 minutes and the natives are getting restless for you to cut that cake."

The gleam in Mac's eyes made him squirm. His dress whites had never been the same after she smashed their first wedding cake all over his face. He needed the suit he was wearing to last until he died because he didn't really want to have to buy another one that he might only need for 10 or 15 years.

"Well, in the interest of not repeating everything _exactly_ as it happened 45 years ago, I'm going to say what I have to say anyway."

Matt stood up and gave a Marine Corps ooh-rah. "You go, Dad! Show her who's boss."

"I assume you mean your sister, Matt. Because your mother is a Marine and we all know that makes her the boss." He thought perhaps that the associate justices laughed more loudly than anyone else at that. Mac's term as Chief Justice had already been called the most organized and disciplined court in history, no doubt because of their squared away leader.

"Seriously, Mac, would you stand up here with me? I want to look into your eyes when I say this."

Bud held her chair for her as she stood. The glow in her eyes reminded him of the look when she told him she was pregnant – overjoyed yet staggering under the weight of reality. He couldn't help it – he needed to touch her. He pulled her into his arms and held her so he could look down into her eyes.

"Sarah Mackenzie Rabb, I couldn't believe it was possible to love you more than I did the day we got married, but the next morning, when I woke up with you in my arms and saw your ring on my finger and my ring on your finger, I loved you even more. And then when our children were born, and when they figured it out a whole lot faster than we did and got married young, I loved you even more because I knew we had taught them how to love in ways we had to learn the hard way, and I was surprised there was a way to love you more. And each of our grandchildren has made me love you more, and I am still surprised today to find that I love you more now than I did when we walked in here. Sarah, our life together has been better than my dreams of what this happiness could ever have been. I love you."

She pulled his face down to hers and touched their lips together. He ignored the wolf whistles and catcalls as he kissed his wife with the passion of a man claiming his lifeline after being adrift in a sea of loneliness for entirely too long – the way he kissed her every day, just in case she didn't know what she meant to him.

When they parted, Mac grinned up at him. "It's been even better than my dreams, too, Harm. I love you." She kissed him, a shorter kiss this time, then turned to face the crowd. "But there are some things which do have to be repeated, so I think it's time for cake. . ."

**JAG JAG JAG JAG**

"You're buying me a new suit." Harm settled Mac into the car and leaned in to kiss her.

"Correction. I've already bought you a new suit. And a new tie, too, because my lipstick isn't going to come off of that one."

He looked down at his tie. "There isn't any lipstick on my tie."

She waggled her eyebrows at him. "Not yet."

He gave her a confused look, shut the door gently, and walked around the car to get in, tipping the valet generously before he allowed the young man to close the driver's door on him. As he started the car, Mac's intent clarified itself in his head. Milan at Christmas, when she literally dragged him into their hotel by his tie and then undressed him with her mouth, a talent he had not known she possessed.

He must have given it away, because she leaned over the console and gave him another powerful kiss. "At least we know we don't have to worry about a pregnancy after our exploits tonight," she purred in his ear.

Harm laughed all the way to their home in Alexandria. They might be octogenarians, and their ability to recreate moments from their earlier lives curtailed by nature and time, but after everything, he still couldn't think of a dream he'd had that was better than his reality. Which made him, in his mind, the luckiest man ever to live.

**--FIN--**


End file.
